Most times we sail, it’s against friends. Sunday found us sailing with friends.
Racing or Cruising
Normally sailing fits into these categories. Racing means people who are normally friendly get crazy-competitive and will do any tricky maneuver for bragging rights later. Cruising usually means we’re on the boat alone for a quiet evening or vacation sail and as it sounds, we’re taking it easy and going with the flow.Races begin with a discussion about where the race will start and when “Go Time” is. We plot the race course, usually the Ben Franklin Bridge to the Walt Whitman or “bridge to bridge” as we say and argue PHRF ratings. Cruising begins with a discussion about food, what type of cheese and which bottle of wine to bring and our course tends toward upriver for the view.
Cruising and Racing
Sunday evening found us combining the two in a way that rarely happens. We were sailing down the Delaware River with Liz, my best friend from our Barcelona days, in town for a conference and Ralph, my college pal, and Peter’s brother, Andy who normally races against us. While we were out for a social cruise, we were also racing Mike and Mike in the Santana bridge to bridge. The first Mike is our good friend; the latter Mike was a first time sailor.Sunday Cruise
We piled into the cockpit, gin & tonics in hand. Peter stashed marinating ahi-tuna and pineapple to grill, insalata caprese fixings and wine and we were off!
Sunday Race
Mike called out, “What’s the plan?”
“Bridge to Bridge?”
“OK!”
And with a voice-delivered “Brrraannnnpppph” the race began!
We started under the Ben Franklin and with Peter’s driving and Andy’s sail trim, Moon was leading!
Then we saw Mike putting up his spinnaker which means serious business.
Andy and Peter discussed strategies.
As we neared the Walt Whitman, the guys employed (exploited?) the racing rule that the windward boat has to give room. They drove Mike up into the wind, his spinnaker collapsed, the boat slowed down and had to come way down wind to get clear of us.
We passed under the Walt Whitman, heading back toward Philadelphia when we heard Mike do the unthinkable: he started his engine! He’s never quit a race since I’ve known him! But he did have the excuse that the other Mike’s wife, pregnant with twins, about to deliver, had called. I guess we’ll let him slide. 